Monthly Archives: December 2015

Random wandering through random thoughts

 

I love all the Christmas movies, don’t you? I watch A Christmas Carol (all 50 versions) and Miracle on 34th Street (I like the Maureen O’Hara, Natalie Wood one best), along with It’s a Wonderful Life and even Christmas Vacation. White Christmas is another favorite, along with Holiday Inn.white_christmas_header__span

At least one weekend a year I load them all up and watch them in one giant, Christmas pig-out. Unfortunately, however, I come up with some of the same random questions every year.

For instance, why does Scrooge’s nephew keep putting up with his uncle? If you ask me, it’s almost harder to believe that Fred (the nephew) never told old Scrooge to stick it up his humbug than it is to believe that anyone could be as bad as Scrooge. And then, when Scrooge shows up at Fred’s house after his miraculous transformation, Fred just invites him in; doesn’t ask for a blood test or a detox certificate—just lets him in the door. If you ask me, Fred’s got some issues.

And, speaking of movies and certifiable characters, let’s take the case of Kris Kringle in Miracle on 34th Street. I’ve never understood exactly what they were trying to prove in the trial held in that movie. Were they trying to prove that Santa Claus was sane or that Kris was sane or that Kris was Santa Claus…and sane? Whichever it is, I ask them to remember that you can’t prove a guy is sane AND prove that he is Santa Claus…that would mean you should be locked up yourself! And as for those lazy louts at the post office, how long do you leave the dead letter room collecting mail before you clean it? It could be that this may explain why our post is slow sometimes!

This brings me to Christmas Vacation. No one wants a nice family Christmas more than me, but I am unwilling to do it at the expense of my sanity. This man endured cat food in the Jello, a dog hacking up under the holiday table, a cigar-smoking old man who set his toupee and the tree on fire and a completely clueless relative without the brains to recognize overt hostility. We’re lucky we didn’t witness a complete meltdown, instead of just a guy sitting in the attic wearing his mother’s dress wraps and weeping over old movies….wait a minute, maybe that was it!

My biggest problem of all, however, comes when I take up the issue of Mr. Potter in It’s a Wonderful Life. This Harry Potter (I’ve always been fascinated by the fact that his name was Henry F. Potter), was not like the lovable English wizard. Henry F. Potter was unsympathetic, vindictive and he did not care about the common muggle…I mean, man. I could live with that, but I can’t live with the fact that he stole 8,000 dollars from that twit, Uncle Billy and then was never brought to justice. How is this right? Shouldn’t a film that ends with everyone standing around, throwing money on the table and singing Auld Lang Syne, also deal out proper justice to a thief?article-2528752-1A46AE3700000578-236_634x396

I’ve often thought there should have been a sequel to this movie: Potter Gets His. George will wake up the morning after the Christmas party with a slight hangover from Mr. Martini’s wine (ironic name there, by the way); he will squeeze the location of the lost money out of Uncle Billy and then he will stomp down to Potter’s office, drag him out of that wheelchair and beat him with his own hard heart.

Okay, I have to get busy making some Christmas candy and banana bread, so I’m going to leave this useless rambling alone, as it gets me nowhere. But as I stir the fudge, I know I’m going to be asking that question that’s on everyone’s mind: how DID they get all those former soldiers up to Pine Tree, Vermont, squeezed into their old Army uniforms, just so a retired general could get snow on his ski slopes? Never mind, I’ll figure it out for myself! Have a merry Christmas.

© Jackie Wells-Fauth and Drops In the Well, 2015. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Jackie Wells-Fauth and Drops In The Well with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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Whistle while you work

I’m not one of those people who happily makes a list of their chores and then cheerfully sets about getting them done. I’m much more the “procrastinate as long as possible and then whine while you work” type.

I was thinking about this while I was out shoveling the latest offerings of snow off the driveway, bemoaning the fact that I’d rather be sipping a little tea with my feet up, when I heard someone singing. It was one of my younger neighbors, out shoveling her walks and singing as she went.

Now, I’m not entirely sure that the song was about how happy she was to be shoveling her afternoon away, but she was definitely spreading some music as she cleared the walks.images (5)

I felt somewhat bad. Perhaps I should be a little more cheerful when I’m out shoveling. After all, I can actually shovel and for some people that is an impossibility. It’s unlikely, however, that I’m going to croon “Winter Wonderland” while I am wielding the shovel. I’ll just get it done and get to my tea.

Other chores, however, are just as bad. What song could I possibly sing while cleaning my toilets, for instance? “Flushed from the Bathroom of my Heart” doesn’t really do it and then there’s always the danger that I’ll automatically try to sing into the toilet brush. That could only end in grief.

It may come as no surprise that I also don’t hum a tune when I mop floors, fold laundry or do the dishes. I’m just a grumpy soul when it comes to work. And as a due warning, I should admit that I am not only not singing, I may be dangerous to approach.

My husband came home from work one evening as I was folding the last of a day’s worth of laundry.laundry_pile1.jpg

“So, how was your day? Doing a little laundry?” he sometimes makes the mistake of thinking I’ll be civil while I’m working.

“No, I just thought it would be fun to pull all of the socks out of the drawer and mismatch them,” I snarled, cramming some undershorts into a drawer.

“Well, that’s nice,” he has finally caught up with the game. “However, you should know that you are shoving your underpants into my t-shirt drawer. You might not find them there when you need them.” And he strolled out of the room, whistling a little bit of “I’ve Got You Under my Skin.”

It was probably the following morning when he discovered that I had rolled up two of his dress shirts and stuffed them in his shoes. Whistle while you’re working at that!

I’m going to work on my attitude about doing chores around the house. It’s just possible that that young girl singing while she shoveled has got me feeling a little guilty about my grouchy airs. It’s going to take a while, however, before I’m whistling while I work. In the meantime things like laundry and shoveling will simply have to be done in brooding silence.

 

© Jackie Wells-Fauth and Drops In the Well, 2015. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Jackie Wells-Fauth and Drops In The Well with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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Bringing up Josie

She was a cute and pudgy little puppy, rolling around in the grass with her brothers and sisters. When we picked her, we were sure we were getting a mild and easy to manage dog.

We brought her home, named her Josie and prepared to enjoy our puppy. And she was sweet and mild and calm….for about four days. That’s when it finally hit home that she wasn’t so calm and mild.

She desperately  wanted to sleep on the furniture, so we bought her a bed. She promptly ate the bed and continued to climb on to the furniture. She ate a pair of my glasses…well, she didn’t really eat them, she just chewed on them until I couldn’t wear them. Explaining that mangled mess to the eye doctor was fun!

She loves paper most of all..anything from toilet paper to books. So far she has eaten the address book, my Nancy Drew collection, a Christmas present for my daughter, the password book, two books of check-blanks and so many napkins, paper towels and random papers I have lost track.12247164_983928861645544_8685450468341935516_n

The house looks like the aftermath of a hurricane all the time and the only glass items that have been broken are the family heirlooms I didn’t have the foresight to put away. I have stripped the house of all the things I think she might go after, but it is true that I have less plastic canvas, balls of yarn and shoe strings.

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Hurricane Josie!

Magazines are a favorite for Josie to take apart, she especially devours the Popular Mechanics and Sports Illustrated papers. She positively devoured a travel book on New York and has consumed a great many of my crossword puzzle books, that I always thought I’d never finish!

My beautiful old Christmas cactus, to large and fussy to be moved from its southern exposure, has taken a particular beating from her. No matter how often I shouted at her, she could never resist the urge to bite at the leaves and it was looking pretty sad. Now, I have chair all around it and while it looks like it’s in jail, it at least is making a recovery.

We were selective in what we put out for Christmas decorations, knowing she would be a factor. I put up the old Christmas tree instead of buying a new one as I had intended. I used all cheap, glittery plastic bulbs, so she couldn’t ruin my good stuff. The tree is unplugged half the time because apparently Josie doesn’t think lights are necessary and the bottom third has been relieved of its bulbs while Josie walks around with a permanent glitter mouth.

I truly believe that Josie will grow up and get better. This is what has kept her alive through bouts of jumping on the cupboards to help herself and growling matches with the cat. I look forward to the days when I don’t have to see her wandering into the living room with a butter paper hanging out of her mouth and my good lint roller stuck to her foot.

Until then, I’m just trying to survive “Hurricane Josie” and hoping that all the glossy magazines she is consuming don’t cause us an even more unpleasant reaction!

 

© Jackie Wells-Fauth and Drops In the Well, 2015. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Jackie Wells-Fauth and Drops In The Well with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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